


Falling Slowly

by intrepidem



Category: Next to Normal - Kitt/Yorkey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety Disorder, Canon-typical Issues, Darkfic, Delusions, Gabe Goodman is actually alive, Gen, I hope, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Drug Use, Tags to be added, Things are not what they seem, Unhealthy Relationships, brief descriptions of blood, but gets progressively awful, but it's interesting too, starts out happy, suicidal idealation, this story is taxing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrepidem/pseuds/intrepidem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel Goodman is happy with his family life. Or, he thinks he's happy. Then again, he believes most people who think they're happy just haven't thought about it enough. Most people who think they're happy are actually just stupid. Well, what to do with that? In this story, we will see the hardships a boy will have to face with a next to normal family and his 'happy' state of mind. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Next To Normal, nor do I own any of the characters in this story. That's Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey's title.
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here.](https://intrepidem.tumblr.com/)

Gabriel Goodman had just gotten a ride back from football practice when he walked through the front door of his home, and, frankly, he was _starving_. He'd been running across a field for more than a few hours in the mild September heat, and the moment he set his bookbag down on the stairs, all he could think about was the thousands of different things he would give up for a sandwich.

Of course, that is until after he caught sight of his mother sitting alone by the kitchen table. She had a far-off look in her eyes, and it made Gabe worry and wonder what could be wrong this time. 

"Mom?"

She scared him when she got like this. She's been on antidepressants for as long as he could remember, battling and coping with mental illnesses which he, regrettably, happened to know a thing or two about. The gene, unfortunately, turned out to be hereditary. It just so happens that Gabe also takes medication—has been since he was pretty young. The siege started with Adderall, a common for boys with an attention span like a gnat, but Adderall had turned into Prozac, which turned into Paxil and Depakote and the likes. It was nothing too serious, his psychopharmacologist always reassured him, but the episodes he'd allegedly experienced in the far past were serious enough to require the standard pills.

His mother looked at him as if he'd suddenly appeared right in front of her. Her bright eyes went from blank to startled.

"Gabe! Oh... Hey, sweetie. Didn't see you there. Erm, h-how was football practice?"

Gabe took a few light-footed steps forward and kept his voice soft. "It was good." His blue eyes carried sympathy in their wake as they darted across her face. "Is everything okay?"

She glanced down at her hands. They were laying against the table, clenched into tight fists, and the aforementioned pills were sprawled across the tablemat in a agitated and unorganized fashion. Wincing, she unraveled them, then put on a smile and looked back up at her son. "I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about." She assured him, before adding a wry smile. "Well, not at the moment, anyway."

That had earned a grin from him, and he padded to the counter and picked out an apple that rested on top of the basket that always sat there, promptly taking a bite, then speeding over to the pantry in search for something that tasted better.

His mom piped up from her chair. She knew all too well what he intended to do. "Don't spoil your dinner, kiddo." 

Gabe popped his head out from the door. "I won't."

He knew she didn't really cook anymore. In fact, he couldn't even remember a time when she had. But it wasn't her fault. Her and Dad had been arguing for a while now, and often she was too shaky to work a television remote, much less use a stove. Besides, Natalie and Dad were good enough cooks on their own, and on nights when those two didn't make dinner for the whole family, he could just as easily fend for himself or get pick up. She just wanted to be like a normal mom, that was all, and scold him once in a while with motherly things. She didn't want to be a liability all the time. He knew the feeling well enough to understand.

A moment later, Gabe heard the front door slam, and the familiar sound of shoes stepping through the house. 

"Hello, sunshine!"

"Shut up, Gabe." Came the grumbled reply as Natalie walked past them.

"How was piano practice?" He asked with astonishingly sarcastic enthusiasm, popping his head out from behind the pantry door a second time to look at her. His face was wide open and his smile big and cheesy and fake. Anything for a kick out of her teenage angst.

"Fucked." She replied cheerfully, before scowling at him and getting her back-pack and textbooks from the desk in the farthest corner of the kitchen.

"Language, Natalie." Their mother reprimanded, but his sister just turned away. Gabe watched in dissatisfaction as she ignored their mother. Again. It was like Natalie hadn't even heard her, like she wasn't even there in the room with them. Quietly, he sighed.

"Why does she hate me?" He heard his mother whisper harshly, clearly upset. He turned to look at her and grimaced at the lost look of confusion on her face.

Gabe was aware that Natalie had a grudge with their mom. He thinks it's because she pays more attention to him than to her, which, albeit, was kinda true. She'd always been there at every one of his football games and jazz-band concerts, cheering him on, being a mother, you know? But she was never there at Natalie's recitals. Sure, he'd only been to about one or two of them himself when Dad forced him, but it was still important to Natalie to have a mother's support. He tried to talk to Mom about it once, but she insisted that Natalie wouldn't want her there anyway, and all the times she'd tried to come in the past, something had gone awry. Gabe remembered the lithium, and backed off. That had been the end of that. So, yes, Gabe suspected Nat was jealous.  But that didn't mean she could just outright ignore her own mother's existence.

 "Natalie," Gabe addressed her.

 "What?" The teen snapped, clearly not liking the stern tone in his voice. She was already annoyed.

 "Show your mother some respect."

She looked at him blankly for moment, then sneered.  "You're a jerk."

Gabe raised his eyebrows, helpless, when she stormed off up the stairs, knowing she would only wind herself even tighter in her extensive homework. His mother wore a tired expression.  

"She's just being a teenager, Mom. Trust me, it's a phase. It'll pass."

"I'm not so sure."

"I am. Really, it's just the mood swings taking. You know what it's like to be that age, huh?" Gabe asked, a smile creeping on his face, as he finally settled on a bag of chips and snatches them from the top shelf. He turned and faced her. "I'm gonna go do some homework, I'll be in my room."

At that, his mom finally smiled—a real smile, not another fake one to make him feel better, the one he recalls seeing dozens of times over, but never onced really believed in.

"You mean play some video games?" 

He pointedly ignored the question with a goofy grin and a wink in her direction. He appreciate these moments when his mom could make a light-hearted joke, and even though said occurrences were becoming fewer and farther apart, he chose not to dwell on the moments it wasn't so light-hearted. Her happiness was his, afterall. "Call me if you need me."

"I will."


	2. When Life Goes Down the Drain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I—" he closed his mouth, opened it, then closed it again. He vaguely recognized the feeling of an empty orange bottle clutched in his hand, and he looked down, suddenly disillusioned. His mind spun, trying to figure out what to say to her. "Is this a bad idea?"

Gabe watched in horror from the upstairs window. Outside, by the front porch, his baby sister was kissing some stoner-kid goodbye. The kid she was apparently dating. What? Since when had she become interested in boys? And she could definitely do much better than that guy! It was infuriating—not to mention he looked like a total dead-beat.

Gabe crossed his arms and wondered how he could have missed this. He slowly realized that watching Nattie make out with this boy was the fifth or sixth grossest things he'd ever seen in his life and turned away in disgust with a shiver. His mom was there beside him when he began to speak.

"When did she get a boyfriend?" He asked her, bewildered.

"Well, she is sixteen, Gabe. Don't you think something like this would have come sooner or later?"

"I... I guess. It's just—she's never seemed even a little interested in the whole dating scene. It's _weird_."

"They're young. It happens. How old were you when you had you're first girlfriend?"

"Fourteen—Oh. Yeah. _Right_."

His mom rested her hand on his shoulder and they both turned back to the window. The two lovebirds were hugging it out like it was some kind of show.

"But shouldn't I... Kick his ass, or something?" He mused as she began to lead him down the hall, away from the scene. It wasn't a secret that Gabe shared a special bond with his mom, where he felt like he could tell her anything. Sure, she was still his mother, and they had their little disagreements, but since they were both in very similar situations, they had a connection none of his other family members did.

It was as such that the pair was a little isolated from the rest of the family. It definitely severed any strong ties that Gabe could potentially have with his father, but that sacrifice wasn't for nothing.

His mom, the only one who understood what he was going through, always helped him through the stressful, crazy episodes in his life. Gabe realized this more and more as time went on and, in addition to the medication that he had to take so constantly, discovered with daunting finality, accepted what it was doing to him:

"I'm missing everything. I swear it's like I can't pay attention to anything anymore. School's gotten so much harder since Dr. Fine gave me that new perscription."

His mother had empathy in her eyes when she next looked at her son. "I know what that's like." She sighed, and continued flatly: "Why do we let him do that? Dr. Fine. He takes over our lives... We _pay him_ to take over our lives with these drugs that are supposed to help us."

Gabe considered this with dread. Was that true? Were these pills hurting more than helping lately? After further contemplation, Gabe found that what he wanted more than anything was to just stop taking these prescriptions. He hated what the pills did to him throughout the day. He could focus on school if he wasn't feeling so dizzy and sick all the time. Some of the side-effects were even starting to hurt his football skills.

All he could remember next was one moment he was looking at his mother, and the next, the interior of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, sifting through it fervently. He grabbed all of the bottles that belonged to him, and dumped their contents into the toilet without preamble. He got on his knees as he continued with the rest of the bottles he found still on the sink.

That's when he noticed her standing at the door way and watching him. There was a pregnant pause, both of them remaining still for its duration.

"I—" he closed his mouth, opened it, then closed it again. He vaguely recognized the feeling of an empty orange bottle clutched in his hand, and he looked down, suddenly disillusioned. His mind spun, trying to figure out what to say to her. "Is this a bad idea?"He decided to ask, voice small and soft, eyes on the floor.

"No," She said strangely, and even though Gabe wasn't looking at her face, he could feel her expression of contemplation. Uncomfortable and sick, Gabe closed his eyes to concentrate. And, as if sensing what he really needed, she began an awkward walk to kneel beside her son, lifting his chin slightly so he would face her. "I don't want you to have to suffer because of Dr. Fine's opinion. It should be your decision to make. You're life. Not his. Remember that."

Gabe considered her words in silence before nodding, getting up from his knees to stare at the colorful pile of pills at the bottom of the bowl. His chest tightened, uneasy, as he tried to recall when exactly he'd collected this many different medications in the first place. He was sure he'd never needed so much before. Feeling cold, he looked away.

"Time to get rid of these." Gabe affirmed, then worry struck his face, and he looked back to his mom. "Just—don't tell Dad."

She nodded understandingly, with an odd half-smile. "I won't. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?"

He smiled back appreciatively, just before finally pushing down the flush. Gabe watched, liberated, as every little pill disappeared. And now, after all this time, he desperately wished he could take it back.


	3. The Problem Child (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gabe." Dan spoke up when the weight of his son's expectant gaze became too much for him to bear. "She isn't here."

Dan was in a good mood when he came home from work that day. A very good mood. In fact, he was so chipper that it made both of his kids have to do a double take from their spots in the dining room.

 He kissed his daughter on top of the head once he approached them—receiving an unappointed ' _ugh, dad_ ' upon action—and gave a happy, contented sigh.

"Everything's just great!" His grin was all teeth, looking down at his only son. 

"Uh, what's wrong with you?" Gabe questioned, sporting wide eyes and a rueful grin in spite of Natalie's apparent irritation.

"Yeah, why are you suddenly so delightful?" That was Natalie, with as cynical of a reply as any.  The kids never see their dad like this. It had been a while since either of them could remember conjuring a mere laugh from the man, much less a whole display of both exuberant cheerfulness and affection. He usually sat on the couch and brooded, or worked himself to death, or cooked and cleaned solo while spending time worrying about Gabe during all previously mentioned activities. By the end of the day, he was fatigued and didn't say much more than a few words to either of them due to said exhaustion. Obviously, tonight was very, very different.  

 "Why wouldn't I be?" Dan countered, and set his hands on either of his childrens' shoulders. "Things have been going so well lately! And I've decided that what better way to celebrate then sitting down at the dinner table like a family? What do you say, Gabe? Nat?"

Gabe's eyes lit up at the idea, suddenly imagining him, his dad, Natalie, and his mom all sitting at the table and being together again. Come to think of it, he couldn't really remember the last time that had ever happened. It would be fantastic to finally spend time together as a whole. Maybe Mom and Dad can put an end to this ridiculous argument, too. Yeah, it sounded like a fine idea to him.  As for Natalie, well, she looked less than impressed. Gabe wondered what could be so off-putting about the whole deal for her to make that sour face. 

"Come on, perk up, Natalie." Dan tapped her on the arm, and she rolled her eyes.

 "Fine, fine. Yeah, whatever. Do what you guys want."

Dan turned to his son and smiled:

"Yeah, I think we will."

 

Twenty minutes later, dinner was cooking and Gabe and his mom had set the table. His Dad was working the stovetop, and Natalie had her books to bare down on as she did her homework on the couch. After a minute or two, the doorbell rang, and Gabe pulled a face. Who could be at the door? His confusion was mostly based on the prospect that they never had guests.  "I got it," he called, and paced to the front door. When he opened it, he couldn't believe he hadn't expected who would be on the other side.   

"Oh, Hi. I'm Henry. Is... Uh, is Natalie here?" 

Gabe glared at him, hard. _Oh, what does he want?_  Being slightly taller than the younger boy, who wore a ball cap over unkempt dark hair and smelled like pot, Gabe assumed it wouldn't be too difficult to intimidate him. He closed the space between the doorway with his body when Henry tried to look behind him. 

"Why do you want to know?" He said, voice low in his throat, not quite going for the friendly route despite how much this Henry-kid tried to appear polite. 

"I... Just want to see her." He blinked slowly and Gabe scoffed internally. _Natalie really picked herself a bright one._ His blue eyes continued to pierce Henry's dark ones, dead-set on intimidating the kid with his size and stature. It seemed to be working, right up until he felt his baby sister pushing her way past him in the doorway.

"Henry! Oh god, what are you doing here?" She sounded fairly upset, Gabe noted with barely considered surprise. Actually, it was like more she was snapping at him. Henry seemed a little confused by her tone, too.

"I was just stopping by to see you, I wanted to... Is this your brother? You never told me you had a brother." Gabe hid a snicker at the abrupt change of direction in his slow-paced words. 

 "Don't you think there's a reason for that? Really, Henry, I can't talk right now." She attempted to push her brother back and away from her boyfriend with a very sisterly shove, earning herself a bit of room in the process. "We're about to have dinner and–"

"Natalie?"

Dan popped his head in what little space was left in between the siblings in the doorway. "Is this Harry? Nice to meet you!"

"It's Henry," Gabe and Natalie said in sync, and turned to each other the moment after to share a challenging gaze. 

 "Uh, it's nice to meet you, too." Henry smiled politely and stuck his hand in a space above Natalie's head for an awkward handshake.  Dan had the expression of pure glee when he said his next words, gesturing welcome with his hands.

"Come in, come in, join us for dinner. We've got plenty of room." He pulled his kids back to let the boy in the doorway. Gabe immediately would have protested the idea if he weren't caught off guard from the abrupt yank back. It was a humorous sight, if you weren't in the headspace of two angsty teenagers.

"I'd love the chance to get to know you better. Natalie talks about you all the time."

"Dad!" 

Gabe was quickly becoming irate. This was supposed to be a family dinner, not a ' _get-to-know-nat's-pothead-boyfriend_ ' party. But before he could put his two cents in to his father, the kid was already sitting in Mom's seat. 

"Sit down, Nat, the food's ready. Gabe, you forgot the silverware, could you go get some, and a butter knife while you're at it. Thanks."

That was weird. He could have sworn he and Mom had put down the silverware. Grumbling, he trudged to the drawer for the utensils and grabbed them with a clatter. When giving the forks to each person, he made sure to grip the one handed to Henry tightly and threw more daggers with his stare before relenting and letting the boy take it. Henry visibly swallowed.  Dan had already set the food on the table and was beginning to serve when he spoke up.

"Alright, are we forgetting anything?"

"Uh, yeah." Gabe snorted, staring incredulously at his father as he took his seat.  Dan looked at his oldest with a question in his eyes. Gabe's jaw dropped.  He couldn't believe he'd forgotten. It was Mom's birthday today, for god's sake. Wasn't that why he'd been so excited when he got home? They should be —would have been—celebrating with a family dinner, but Dan just had to put Henry in the picture.

"What?" 

"Dad, come on." He said impatiently, gesturing to exaggerate. "I can't believe you're still doing this. I mean, It's her birthday. Remember?"

 The silence that followed was tense and deafening.  Gabe watched with expecting eyes when Natalie put her head in her hands. Dan's face shattered into a unwelcome, coldly familiar expression, all of today's hopes slaughtered and buried by his son's few words.  Henry's potentially excited voice broke the quiet like glass shattering.

"Who's birthday is it?" 

Natalie was the first to reply after a long, tense silence. "My mother's. She... Died. A couple of years after I was born."

Henry's flattened, sympathetic ' _oh_ ' was enough to hold the moment until Gabe huffed a fit of humorless laughter and everyone looked up.

  "W-what? What're you taking about?"

He looked at all three of them, one-by-one. His confused smile faltered slowly, before he wore a face of utter seriousness.

"Natalie." He snapped, attempting to show her reason. "Come on, she was _just_ here, you _just_ saw her. You know—stop ignoring her! It's really gone too far this time." Even as he spoke with confidence, he was gaining a sick feeling in his stomach. At least, he expected his Dad to agree with him. What he did not expect was the picture he saw when he turned to him. His father's gaze was laced with pity and regret, punching holes straight through Gabriel's heart.

" _Dad_. Tell her she's... Dad?" 

Henry was staring at Gabe in shock, eyes wide with discomfort and jaw slightly gaping. Slowly, he came to understand the severity of the situation, and looked over to his girlfriend for guidance.  Natalie seemed every bit as devasted as her father, but she also had another emotion that came a very close second.  One Henry found very easy to recognize; he could see her barely concealed anger, rising and building until she was ready to explode.  

"Gabe." Dan spoke up when the weight of his son's expectant gaze became too much for him to bear. "She isn't here." 

His father's voice, which had earlier been so light and cheery, now possessed a tone gruff and somber.

  "What?" He croaked. Hoarse. Quiet. Hurt. Gabe felt dangerously close to some kind of outburst, like the world was crashing down around him. His head spun madly. He felt so angry and scared and sick and just so confused. 

"I know you know, Gabe. Your mother... She's been dead for twelve years. I'm sorry." Gabe shook his head slowly, lost eyes on his empty plate, brows furrowed and desperately trying to get a grip of the situation.  Numbly, he wrapped his arms around his head. He tugged a little at his hair, hiding his face, staring blankly at the edge of the table. Still and quiet.  

"This is fucked." He heard Natalie hiss, just vaguely. He was far too distracted by the torrent of conflicting emotions to really care.   

"Natalie! Language."

Tears pricked at his eyes, so he shut them tight, trying to retreat inside his mind to think. His heartrate was still amplified, despite his feeble attempts to regulate it. He wished the house would stop spinning. 

" _Fuck this_!"  She cried, and flew up from the chair, letting it fall backward with a bang and stormed upstairs. Henry followed her awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable when he backed away from the table with a few quick, thoughtless words:

 "It was wonderful to meet you both."

 _Yeah, right,_  Gabe thought bitterly, for just a moment through his delirium.  He and his sister didn't agree on many things in their lifetime, but one thing was for sure that none in the entire household could deny:   

_This was so fucked._


	4. The Problem Child (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's dark and frightening in the parts of his brain that know the truth, that understand. And just like the boy who needs his mother, he's too afraid to visit them and learn what it's like to not have one at all.

_Dancing. Twirling—no, spinning. I've wound up, and now I'm gone, like a top, around and around. Out of control. I'm going to be sick. Somebody, anybody, just get me off this ride. I've gone._

_Spinning. Falling. Sinking._

_I'm drowning._ __

No single person understands the feeling of helplessness until it has bombarded you at your worst. When this kind of devastation, this loneliness, grips you like a vice, nobody can reach out to you. Nobody can save you, not to pick you up from the ground and put you back on your feet, not to kneel down by your side and treat the hurt with care and comfort. You're isolated and afraid and confused until what you need has somehow found its way to you. Gabriel needs. But he's lost with no way to get back home, only because—he realizes with a twist in his gut—he had never really known the way in the first place.

Somewhere in the back of Gabe's mind are the answers, but that place is clouded with warning and fear. It's dark and frightening in the parts of his brain that know the truth, that understand. And just like the boy who needs his mother, he's too afraid to visit them and learn what it's like to not have one at all.

Upstairs, Natalie slammed her door shut forcefully and started throwing things, trashing her room. _Teenagers_. Henry was waiting outside of her the door, twiddling his thumbs nervously, balancing his concern for her with his discomfort in being a part of such a bizarre situation. Meanwhile, downstairs, Dan paced the floor of the dining room, alternately scrubbing his face and shooting a worried glance at his son. Gabe remained with his head in his hands, stock-still, and dwindling. Excruciatingly long moments passed before Dan finally began to speak, uselessly seeking the attention of his not-so-lucid son.

"What about the new meds?" He tries, receiving no response, not even a glance. "Gabe, they were working...

 _"Jesus_." He mutters, then starts anew: "Listen to me, son; I'm not sure how long this has been going on, but I know we can fix it." Just empty words. "Look at me. It'll get better, I promise. We can get to the bottom of this." Dan began picking up the unused silverware to put back into the drawers. "You just have to cooperate. That's all you really need to do. We'll figure the rest out. We can... We can get a new round from Dr. Fine—"

The interjection was immediate.

"No!" Cried Gabe, fists slamming onto the table, rattling the forks that hadn't been retrieved yet, still lying atop the glass plates. His expression was fierce, an abrupt switch in a hair's breadth of a second. His tired eyes burned with defiance, outright anger, at even the suggestion of going back to Dr. Fine; the one who'd manipulated him for years, degraded him to a head-case and stuffed him with medication.

Mom would be so disappointed.

Gabe started to tremble. "It doesn't work! _They_ don't work! They only make everything worse."

Dan pinched the bridge of his nose. Gabe felt a twinge of guilt at this gesture, one he wished he didn't have to always feel. Wished the voice in his head that sounded too much like his own wouldn't throw accusations around.

_You're a burden. A nutcase. A problem._

"Gabe, look. I know this is hard—" Dan started, but the ill-considered words could have been shouted as loud as by a drill sergeant from the way the atmosphere shattered.

"You... _what did you say_?" It seems that his guilt would be short lived after all. It was frightening how quickly Gabe could transition from someone practical into a someone who let emotions and impulses rule over all other personal morals.

There was a tense pause. Dan sighed. "I know that you're hurting."

Gabe shot up from his seat like a bolt, chair scraping against the floor.

How dare he?

"Oh, really?" A chilling laugh bubbled out of his throat before he snarled and added: "What, exactly, do you know?"

_How dare he?_

Gabe was about to blow. His adrenaline thrummed and his blood pressure rose to the point where he struggled to not let his vision go completely blurred, bottling up the outrage and the need to scream. Maybe it was the injustice of it all that kept him focused, or maybe just willpower, because he managed to keep a top on it. His next words were thankfully coherent.

"You have no idea what it's like! Don't even try to give me that empathetic- _I-know-how-you-feel_ -bullshit! Stop pretending like you understand what it's like to be this way! You can't compare yourself to me, to this! And _don't_ try to tell me it's easy, that's it's fixable, because it's not and you damn-well know that!"

"I just want to help you, Gabe!" Dan shouted back, though he was speaking in a tone more desperate than aggressive. "I can't do that if you refuse the medication! I know it's hard, but they're meant to help you." The words came out of his mouth easily, allmost instinctually, for he'd had this conversation more times than once. He, regrettably, had a vague idea of how the situation could potentially be pacified. Although, that is not to say it didn't distress him to see his son brought down to this state, wide-eyed and confused and, worst of all, so upset at him. He was reminded all too much by his watery, accusing blue eyes of harder times, so many years ago, with another.

Dan had once thought Gabe's eyes were a gift. But he stopped feeling that way a long time ago. Every laugh line and eye roll and tear was her. Every heart-breaking bout confusion or morbid understanding that passed, palpable, through those eyes has long since been obliterated to a painful picture from Dan's past. So much so that it was almost too much to bear. Had all the times he'd hoped and prayed for his children to be different, to be happy, been for absolute naught? Dan coped with this by doing his best in ignoring theit stark resemblance, but it was so hard, especially now, to not hear a haunting voice replace the sound of Gabriel's relentless shouting and feel a stab of deft pain where his heart was, reeling in the bitter irony of it all.

Suddenly, Dan closed his eyes, fearing he too may become lost in his mind. He dismissed the memories promptly, his world oozing back into a cool, calm, grey mock of a color. It was better that way.

 _Bang!_ A thump and a shatter brought him back to his kitchen with a startling tug. Beseeching the source of commotion, Dan's eyes fell to the floor, and fixed. He shortly wondered if witnessing this was any better than the memories.

_Twirling, Spinning... Drowning. I'm drowning. Somebody, please, help me!_

Gabe sat, trembling, on the floor, anguished, and sank deeper. His knees and head had were tucked into his body, and his arms were wrapped around himself. He shook with adrenaline and the fear of being consumed by the sudden sense of despair that overcame him. He didn't recall feeling this specific type of hurt before now, but then again, how could he know for sure? How could he possibly expect himself to know anything if he couldn't tell the difference between reality and hallucination? So he hid. He cowered from reality like it were his enemy, mind tricked by his lowest mania. And with no drugs to dull the aftershocks of such a depressive drop, he remained, unreachable next to the scattered pile of glass that used to be a cup and next to her chair, toppled on it's back.

He heard Dan once again attempted to attain his son's attention, felt him kneel to the ground to console him, but to no avail. Don't you know it's useless? In truth, there was only one person that could put him back on his feet, and trusted him to walk a few free steps without the crutch of Paxil, Ambien, and Prozac. One person he could confide in, and loved enough to return the favor. One person who understood.

And where is that person?

_Dead!_

The word rung in his ears like a siren. He flinched and covered them. Dan placed a hand on Gabe's shoulder, and he flinched again, shuffling from the touch, muttering helplessly, shaking his head, face hidden, voice muffled. "You don't know... You don't know..."

Dan licked his lips a scooted a bit closer. "Gabe, what are you afraid of? I'm here for you, you know that. How could something go wrong... That I can't see? But I promise, we won't give up on this. I won't let go."

Gabe sobbed, wishing his father could just understand. All the anger in his system had melted into a hopeless sense of despairing. He felt betrayed by his illness, cheated out of a proper mourning, and that hurt like nothing else.

_Drowning..._

A warm hand covered his, comforting. But he knew that this feelung was different.

He was afraid to look up.

Suddenly, the image of pills rushing down the toilet drain came back to the forefront of his brain, in stark colors that promised regret. Slowly, he raised his head from the crook his arms had made, red eyes tracing the outline of their clasped hands and her face.

He didn't blink.

She looked down at him with a sad smile. Her voice sounded distant, like a whisper, once she spoke.

" _Gabe. I'm here._ "

Her eyes promised what words couldn't and he knew at the same moment he was damned.

" _I'm here._ " She insisted.

His face contorted and the tears in his eyes rushed down his cheeks. He was at a crossroads to either embrace her or to cover his ears and scream. And then she was yelling. Shouting, but no, not at him. At his father. His father who refused to hear her, despite the meaning and importance of her words. She was shouting _in his defense_. While Dan tried desperately to get through to his son, his mother fought back relentlessly to a lost cause. It was unbearable to watch.

" _You can't expect this to just heal itself, Dan! Look at me! You have to see what's really going on and be there for our son!_ "

"Gabe, it'll just take some time. I'll always be right here with you. It'll get better, I swear. Look at me. I'm here."

" _Gabe, sweetheart, look at me. It's alright. I'll always be here._ "

He covered his face with his hands, no longer trying to bite back the hysterical sobs that racked his body.

"Shhh, Gabe, you're okay, everything's okay."

But her voice had grown ever closer, and echoed closely in his ears.

" _I know, sweetie, I know. I'm right here. Always._ "

He felt a warm pair of arms wrap around his shaking body, equally as comforting as they were restricting, suffocating...

 _Always?_  Define _always_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are always greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	5. An Apple a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything is centered around him. Always. We never get a rest. I'll think for once that I'm a part of a real family, and then everything goes batshit and I'm just sitting there, watching, meaningless... Invisible!"

"When he gets like this, he's... useless! He can't use the phone, can't drive–"

"Yeah, but I bet he's got some great pills," Henry pipes up, but quickly backtracks, coughing awkwardly. 

It had taken several minutes and some coaxing from the outside of the door, but eventually Natalie relented and calmed down enough let him inside her room. With all the screaming that was easily heard upstairs coming from the first floor, it was a poor thing she hadn't relented sooner. Since then, Nat's just been ranting about how dumb and unfair her situation is and the inanely blatant madness that overrode her brother.

"I mean, not that I would go there." Henry assured. "That shit's inorganic."

"And totally ineffective, apparently."

A small pause passed through the room as Natalie sulked, plopping on the floor and bringing her knees to her chest.

"I'm old school." Her boyfriend prided, continuing the conversation in spite of her disinterest and conjuring an apple from his jacket pocket. He turned his back from her, and she rolled her eyes. "Dying breed. All the preppies and the jocks are stealing from their parents' medicine cabinets and popping Xanex and snorting Aderol—"

"Really?" Cut in Natalie, an unreadable expression on her face.

"But not me," continued Henry, "I am the master of the lost art of making a pipe—" he displayed his work of art in open palms with a cheesy grin, "out of an apple."

"Yeah, you're the MacGyver of pot." Henry chuckled and kneeled to her, lighter in hand. "You promise this will help?"

His face fell a bit. "No."

She turned away.

"What?"

"You know, it always happens just like this." She snapped, eyes flashing with anger bur still trained intently on the floor. "Everything's all calm and my dad is happy _for once_ and things are good, then something sets him off and it's a huge fucking reminder that nothing will ever be okay. It's like," she gestured wildly, her voice steadily raising in volume and hysteria, "everything is centered around him. Always. We never get a rest. I'll think for once that I'm a part of a real family, and then everything goes batshit and I'm just sitting there, watching, meaningless... _Invisible_!"

She met his eyes finally, wide and buldging from the force of her outrage. However, once she caught sight of his raised eyebrows and his twitching mouth, trying to muster something to say, she deflated.

"You just... Can't understand."

"That's not true," Henry began.

"Yes, it is!" Natalie cut him off, and hER voice bubbled with humorless laughter. "For one, you don't even have siblings, do you? Uh huh, much less psychotic ones that just can't let anything go!"

"Natalie–"

"And my dad! My dad can't focus on one thing without worrying what _he's_ gonna do next. He's so consumed with it, and all of the problems Gabe has, which we barely knows the half of, I know I've lost count! And it's getting worse, I just keep getting more and more invisible and it's so fucked up! We can't _live_ like this! _Any_ of us! No one can _live_ like this!"

" _Natalie_." Henry's voice was a harsh whisper, and somehow a thousand times more effective than a shout.

She froze. You see, if you stayed silent and listened hard enough, only focused on the right places, you could just make out the sound of shuffling and the shadow of a still figure passing under the doorframe. Two pairs of eyes were trained on the spot, momentarily stunned. They both knew without a doubt who had been passing through the hall way.

Fuck.

This thought was confirmed by the sound of a bedroom door slamming shut just a few rooms down.

A few moments passed while the pair processed what Natalie had just done. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She ran to the door, on impulse, but stopped short just as her hand was about to reach the doorknob. That's when the frustration kicked in, as it was bound to, to battle against her first judgment. She paused and looked down at her hand.

Across the room, Henry quietly waited for whatever was to come. She ran her hand through her hair and hissed in anger, slamming her small fist against the wooden hollow.

Silence.

Natalie was the first to break it.

"The apple."

"Excuse me?"

She faced Henry, both irritation and resignation strewn across her features, and hand outstretched expectantly.

"The apple." She repeated.

Henry decided against letting out a sigh of disappointment.


End file.
